The ability to love is part of who we are. How deeply we are able to do it is what we choose. To simply love another is not enough. To even love yourself is of no real esteem; for some love themselves too much, whilst others know not what things should be loved.
Love is like a seed planted in the fertile soil of a compassionate heart, watered by both tears of joy and sorrow. Its roots are the veins and capillaries that breathe life into our soul which blooms the totality of our being into a spectrum of colours that encompass the petals which number the years from which our pollinating spirit rides upon the winds of time until it finds a heart ready to be seeded and produce more of its kind.
So many try to love like the magic of dandelion wish- impatient to wait for the winds, instead blowing our seeds across barren landscapes hoping that love will take root in a place where it is out of season. Tilling and turning the soil of frigid ground does not make it spring just because we wish for warmth. Neither can you make a fruit seed grow by simply watering sand. Love will always take root in due season and in a place prepared to receive it. If your seeds of love are constantly failing to take root, it is only because you surround yourself by barren hearts. ~Neo Blaqness~